Tearful Reunion
Three Months Later
Jirou Kyoka’s hands gently move, sweeping over the dust that had long since settled over her desk during her weeks of grief. The bristles of the broom would whispered against the floor, the rhythmic strokes filling the quiet space she once allowed to become so suffocating.
The room was different now, brighter even. She had pulled the curtains open and finally let in the golden light of the late morning sun. Stale air had been replaced with the scent of fresh laundry and some faint traces of her favorite lavender candle. Once she was done brushing away, she put the broom away and sat on her bed. Taking this time to reflect on how she’s been doing the last few months since All Might, no, Toshinori Yagi, managed to bring her out of her grief.
‘Can’t believe it’s been three months.’ Kyoka thought, smiling as she cross her legs while on her bed.
Three months since All Might had stepped into her room and found her in the wreckage of her own grief.
She had been hollow back then. Her skin lost its meat and merely stick to her bones. The dark circles under her eyes were very prominent and the imaginative weight of loss press so heavily against her chest she had barely been able to breathe without feeling like her lungs would crush in an instant.
But she was better now. She wouldn’t say she’s whole again, doubt she ever would, not with her love ones gone, but better. Looking to her right she saw something that made her smile, but it was a bitter one that held no warmth. Grabbing it, she inspected the cover and could only sigh in longing.
’Izuku Midoriya.’ Her fingers trace the name over and could feel the tears form at the corner of her eyes. Just seeing his name with his handwriting was enough to almost make her cry her heart out. But she held it in, she’s done enough crying for now.
She tucked away that old notebook, her fingers lingering for just a second longer than what was necessary. Before a sense of sadness could wash over her, a ghost of a smile touched her lips.
Music had now returned to her life, first as a whisper, then a hum, and now it was back in her veins. The sense of music pulsing in time with her heartbeat. She still missed them, god, she missed them, but she had learned to live for them instead of breaking under the weight of their sudden absence.
Getting off her bed, she dusted off her hands and stepped back, taking in the sight of her room. It wasn’t just clean anymore, it was alive again. No longer was her room in darkness, but instead has been dump in the light once more.
Kyoka exhaled as her body moved before she could second-guess herself, grabbing her jacket and stepping outside. She walked past the quiet halls of Heights Alliance, a stark contrast to how it used to be in the past. Making her way to the large wooden doors, she opened it without a second thought.
The air was crisp, filled with the hum of a world that had kept moving even after her love ones had long since vanished. Her feet carried her down some very familiar streets, her heart grew tight with each step as she walk to her new favorite destination.
‘The statue isn’t far.’ It stood tall in the heart of the city, where the sun always seemed to hit just right, casting long shadows that stretched over the pavement. It wasn’t grand or anything overbearing, no, that wouldn’t have fit them.
The statue was strong, it looked unsteady and unshaken by the weather.
Izuku, with his determined gaze set toward the future. Bakugo, standing firm like an unmovable force. A bonus was that they added Eri, showing a small but radiant smile, as if she had finally found happiness.
Despite having see it so many times, Kyoka swallowed roughly, her throat tightening as she stepped closer.
“Hey,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. The wind carried her words away, but she didn’t mind at all.
She traced her fingers over the cool stone, brushing against the etched details of their faces.
How many times had she stood here, wishing? Praying for the impossible to occur and see them once more?
“I wish I could see you again,” she admitted, her voice wavering as she spoke. “Even just once.”
Unbeknownst to Kyoka, the air shifted lightly, but since she was so lost in her own world, she didn’t notice it.
A warmth wrapped around her skin, it felt feather light but not uncomfortable. Kyoka frowned, glancing down to look at her skin. A faint glow pulsed along her hands, traveling up her arms in gentle waves.
She didn’t notice the way the world seemed to come to a complete halt.
She didn’t hear the distant hum that looked to vibrating through the air. Didn’t realize that, somewhere far beyond the reach of reason, something, or someone, was actually listening and mange to hear her last wish.
Meanwhile with All Might
Toshinori Yagi was tired.
Not in the way that came with age, though his body still bore the scars of countless battles, nor in the way that came from lack of sleep.
Though his nights were often restless, they have gotten better however. No, this was a different kind of exhaustion, the weight of absence, of unspoken words and unresolved grief. He, like Kyoka, couldn’t believe that three months have passed.
Three months since he had stood in Kyoka Jiro’s dimly lit room, surrounded by the wreckage of a girl who had lost everything. Three months since he had forced himself to keep moving, to keep on living, because to do anything else would be a disservice to the ones he had sworn to protect.
So, he had returned to the world, not as All Might as that time had long since pass, not as the Symbol of Peace, but as Toshinori Yagi.
He had thrown himself into teaching, actually learning how to teach to others, though the halls of U.A. felt emptier without the sound of a voice, without the unmistakable presence of explosive footsteps, and without the gentle laughter of a little girl who had once been afraid of the world.
He had visited their families, spoken to Mitsuki Bakugo and Inko Midoriya once she got out of the mental hospital. He had listened to their grief and shared his own. By the end of their talk, they were under less grief and started to show more emotions other than sadness.
He had stood before the statue as it was erected in their honor, even traced his fingers over their carved expressions, and had whispered words only the wind could hear.
He had tried, truly tried, to live for them. But the silence still hurt, it always will. But as long as he kept going, then that was aright.
Toshinori sighed, running a weary hand through his hair as he leaned back in his chair as a good steaming cup of tea grow cold beside him. His office at U.A. was quiet and he enjoyed that quietness. A moment of silence from everything, even the harshness of his own thoughts that berated him constantly.
The setting sun casted long shadows in his small room. Stacks of papers lay scattered across his desk. They were lesson plans, reports, letters from students who still sought his guidance. It honestly surprised him why they were even still willing to go to him for advice. But right now, he has been overwhelmed and honestly just wants to forget about everything and leave.
‘I should go home.’ Instead of doing that, he instead reached for an old photograph tucked between the pages of an old book.
The edges were worn and the colors were slightly faded, but the memory it held was as vivid as ever.
Class 1-A, loud and chaotic as ever. But his eyes were on four people especially.
Izuku, standing off to the side, a sheepish smile on his face as he was pulled into the group while Bakugo was scowling but not moving away when Kaminari slung an arm around his shoulders.
Kyoka, caught mid-eye roll as Ashido grinned beside her. Kyoka had her arm around Izuku’s waist. Eri could be seen sitting atop Mirio’s shoulders, her tiny hands grasping at his hair, her laughter almost audible even now.
Toshinori smiled, but it was a small fragile thing. He wondered what they would say if they could see him now.
Would Izuku scold him for not eating enough?
Would Bakugo call him a damn skeleton and shove food into his hands? Would Eri tug at his sleeve, her wide eyes filled with concern when she realized that she hasn’t been eating as much as he should have been.
He exhaled a breath, setting the photograph down.
The future was uncertain, a vast unknown stretching before him. But for the first time in a long time, he let himself wonder, what if?
A faint warmth brushed against his skin. But he ignored it. He didn’t notice the way his form glowed softly.
{In Void Beyond}
In the vast expanse beyond human space, where time ebbed and flowed like a great river, a being watched through two separate portals.
They had no name, at least not one that mortals could grasp. To some, they were some destiny incarnate, the unseen force that wove the tapestry of existence.
To others, they were a mere observer, a shadow lingering in between possibilities. But in this moment, as they gazed upon the fragile threads of fate, they were something else.
Intervention was not their way.
They had watched countless stories unfold, had seen civilizations rise and fall, heroes emerge and fade. They had watched the boy, Izuku Midoriya, since the moment his soul burned bright, marked by power not meant for mortal hands. They have also seen how bright his soul burns alongside the eight others. They had seen his struggles, his triumphs, and his inevitable suffering.
They had seen what his loss did to the ones left behind.
Jirou Kyoka, once vibrant, had nearly faded away into grief. But she had endured, clinging to life with trembling fingers, even when all seemed lost.
Toshinori Yagi, a pillar of strength for so long, had weathered his own silent torment, carrying the weight of failure like an iron chain.
For four months, the being had watched them.
For four months, they had waited. It was not a cruel curiosity that made them hesitate, no, it was caution.
Destiny was often delicate. To move too soon, to interfere without reason, was to unravel and bring destruction to the order of the universe.
But now…now it was time.
A multitude of hands, each glowing with an ethereal light, moved in complete harmony.
The strands of fate shifted beneath their touch, weaving together strings that had been separate for to long.
They had already guided Izuku, Bakugo, and Eri to another world, knowing their journey was not yet complete. Now, it was time to bring the others to them. Their gaze settled upon Jirou.
She stood before the statue, unaware of the glow that surrounded her, her fingers resting gently against the carved stone of Izuku’s face. She whispered words lost to the wind, but the being heard them. ‘One more time…just once more, I wish I could see you.’ Were the words that the being heard.
And Toshinori.
He was alone in his office, lost in memories of a past that could no longer be changed. The being could see him wondering about a future that remained uncertain. The light surrounded him now, but he was too tired, too lost in thought to notice.
The being smiled.
Not a cruel smile, nor one of amusement, but one of understanding.
These two souls were not meant to remain behind.
The time for suffering had passed.
With the grace of a celestial artist, the being wove their final touch into the tapestry of fate. The light around Jirou and Toshinori brightened, their forms becoming weightless, untethered from the world that had held them in sorrow.
And then, with a gentle push, they were gone.
The being stepped back, watching as the threads settled into place and smiled. A new story was about to begin. A kinder one.
{XXXX}
Three months had passed since Izuku, Bakugo, and Eri had arrived in this strange yet oddly welcoming world. At first, everything had felt surreal, like a dream they were waiting to wake up from. The first few weeks had been the hardest, adjusting to life without the advanced technology and comforts of home.
Eventually they grew to accept that there was no clear way back right now, and most of all, carried the weight of the Final War on their shoulders. But time, as it always did, would pushed them forward.
They had settled into the quiet rhythm of village life.
Izuku, ever the adaptable one, had thrown himself into helping the villagers wherever he could, whether it was tending to crops, repairing fences, or assisting Bell’s grandfather with…odd jobs.
His kindness had made him beloved among the people, many of whom saw him as a strong yet humble young man with a heart far too big for his own good.
Bakugo, naturally, had taken a much different approach. He wasn’t one for socializing, but he worked just as hard, proving his strength by assisting in the forge, lifting heavy loads, and offering his skills wherever they were needed.
Though he often grumbled, the villagers had grown fond of him in their own way, recognizing his sharp tongue for what it was, a mask over a deeply protective soul.
Eri had perhaps changed the most. No longer burdened by fear or the trauma of her past, she had begun to flourish. The village elder’s wife had taken a liking to her, teaching her how to sew, cook, and take care of the household.
She had found peace here, something she had never known before, and though she still longed for home, for her mom, but for now she was content knowing she was with the people she loved most.
And then there was Bell.
The boy had continued to dream of becoming a hero. Under Izuku and Bakugo’s training, he had grown, not just in strength, but in confidence.
He had thrown himself into their lessons with relentless determination, waking at dawn and pushing himself to his limits every day.
Izuku had him focused on his speed, agility, and endurance, while Bakugo had trained his strength and reflexes. Together, they had honed him into something better, someone that could respond sharper.
However, Bell still had a long way to go. That much was true as Izuku and Bakugo still had a lot to teach him. But for now, he was no longer the frail farm boy who had once struggled to carry a crate of apples without nearly dropping it.
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{Day before Arrival}
The sunrise this morning had been beautiful, the air carrying the cool bite of dawn as Izuku stood alone in the clearing. The village was still quiet, the first wisps of sunlight stretching over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and violet. His breath came in steady puffs of white mist, and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears.
He had avoided this moment for weeks.
Ever since he, Bakugo, and Eri had arrived in this world, he had hesitated to call upon One For All. It had been instinct at first, an unspoken caution, as if activating his quirk might disrupt something fundamental about this place.
The world felt different, as if it wasn’t built to house the kind of power he carried within him. But that wasn’t the real reason he had been reluctant.
The real reason was fear.
The war back home had pushed him beyond his limits. He had used One For All, fought until his body had nearly broken under the weight of it, until the embers of the quirk burned so brightly inside him that he had felt like he was losing himself.
‘What if he tapped into it now, after months of rest, and it was too much? What if his body wasn’t ready? Or worse… what if it was gone?’
He exhaled slowly, shaking the doubts from his mind. He had to know if One For All has changed or remained the same.
Taking his stance, Izuku let his body remember the familiar motions, the way his muscles tensed and the way his breathing slowed.
‘One For All: Full Cowling.’ The crackle of energy should have been instantaneous. It should have surged through his limbs, wrapping around him in a bright, electric cloak.
Instead, it was… quiet.
The green lightning flickered to life around his body, but it was weak, faint in certain places.
The power that had once coursed through him with overwhelming intensity now barely whispered against his skin. His limbs felt light, his movements sharper than normal, but nothing like the strength he had known before.
Something was wrong.
His brows furrowed as he tried to push further, to summon more of One For All’s strength. He clenched his fists, gritted his teeth, forcing the energy to spread. The sparks danced along his arms, but they sputtered and were unstable, as if the stockpile itself had grown thin.
He took a step forward, testing the weight of his body. He could still feel some of the quirk’s power, his enhanced reflexes and the heightened awareness, but there was no overwhelming force, no sense of boundless energy ready to explode at his command.
Had it… weakened?
“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath.
A whisper of voices stirred in his mind, the familiar presence of the past users brushing against his consciousness. It wasn’t often that they spoke unless he deliberately sought them out, but this time, they came unbidden.
Their collective concern going through his thoughts. Then he heard the second user’s voice came.
“You feel it too, don’t you?”
The Second User’s tone was sharp, as if he had been waiting for Izuku to acknowledge the problem.
On impulse, Izuku closed his eyes, retreating into the void-like space where the past wielders of One For All resided. Their figures hovered before him, their faces solemn. Even All Might’s ghost, who’s form hasn’t yet turn solid, looked troubled.
“What’s happening?” Izuku asked, his voice firm despite the unease twisting in his chest. “One For All feels… weaker.”
The First User, Yoichi, stepped forward. His blue eyes, so often filled with warmth, now carried a glint of uncertainty. “We don’t have a definitive answer, Ninth. But you’re right, One For All’s stockpile power has been greatly diminished.”
Izuku could feel his stomach dropped. He had suspected something when he felt that the power behind Full Cowl felt much less than usual but hearing that his suspicious were confirmed had sent a cold chill down his spine.
“How?”
The past users exchanged glances before Nana spoke next, her expression tinged with concern. “We’ve never experienced anything like this before. One For All has always been a quirk that grows stronger, not weaker.”
The Second User folded his arms. “It could be something about this world, something that is different here than in our world.” That thought sent a shudder through Izuku. He knew that quirks didn’t exist in this world, but what is affecting the stockpile power of One For All?
“Had it been weakened during their arrival into this world?” Izuku asked, but he received no replay from the past users as they didn’t have one.
That was until the Third User, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. His deep voice carried the weight of his own worry. “It’s still yours, Ninth that hasn’t changed. But if the stockpile has been reduced…you may not have access to the full power you once had.”
Izuku swallowed hard. The idea of having to start over again, to relearn how to use the quirk he had spent months mastering, was daunting. But even worse was the fear that One For All might never return to its full strength.
The Sixth User, En, tilted his head thoughtfully. “We should test it further before drawing any sort of conclusions.You just have to figure out how to control them again with the loss power.”
Upon hearing that, Izuku nodded, determination setting in his body. He wouldn’t let this obstacle stop him. Even if One For All had diminished, it was still his power. He would adapt to this new challenge, like he always had.
He opened his eyes, the past users fading as he returned back to the physical world.
The morning breeze was still cool against his skin, the field still empty except for him. He exhaled, shaking out his limbs before shifting his stance again. If One For All had weakened, then he need to find out just how much weaker it got.
Still clinging to Full Cowling, Izuku pushed himself off the ground. The burst of speed sent him forward, but it was nowhere near the breakneck velocity he was used to.
He skidded slightly, adjusting to the lighter force. It was still an improvement over his natural speed, but not by much.
He tried again, pushing harder. His muscles burned, but not in the way they used to when he handled higher percentages.
’What the heck…could it really be this bad?’ Izuku thought to himself as he wryly smile.
This was different.
It wasn’t One For All’s strength he was drawing from, it was felt like it was simply enhancing what was already there. It was as if the quirk had been reduced to its fundamental form.
He spent the next hour testing his limits, jumping, sprinting, and throwing punches but the results were the same. The power that had once been like a roaring fire inside him had been dwindled down to embers. If Izuku were to spilt his power into something, then he had about 1/3 of the stockpile power in him. Which did make him feel a bit better.
Bakugo had found him not long after, arms crossed as he watched from a distance. He didn’t say anything at first, but Izuku could feel the scrutiny in his brother’s gaze.
“Something’s wrong with One For All, huh?” Bakugo finally said. It wasn’t a question.
Izuku sighed, standing upright as he wiped sweat from his brow. “Yeah.”
Bakugo clicked his tongue, but his expression wasn’t mocking, it was calculating. “You gonna cry about it or figure it out?”
A small smile tugged at Izuku’s lips. “I’ll figure it out.”
“Good,” Bakugo grunted. “We’ve got a weakling farm boy to train after all. No time for you to be useless as well.” Bakugo said with a smirk.
Izuku laughed, shaking his head. He still didn’t know why One For All had weakened or if he would ever get its full strength back. But as he stood there, feeling the weight of his body, the earth beneath his feet, the energy still buzzing faintly inside him, he knew one thing for sure.
No matter how much power he had, he would never stop moving forward.
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{Day of Arrival}
The sun hung high, its golden light casting wavering shadows over the field. A breeze stirred the grass, carrying the scent of earth and sweat. The air was thick with tension, not from hostility, but from the raw intensity of a fight unfolding before Bell and Eri’s watchful eyes.
Izuku and Bakugo had long since abandoned the idea of simply training. What they were doing now was more than drills and much more than sparring. Every strike, every dodge, every shift in their stance was deliberate. There was no wasted movement or hesitation, their moves almost looking like a dance.
Izuku’s body was a blur, moving like a green streak that weaved between Bakugo’s attacks. Even without One For All at its full power, his speed was monstrous. He had honed it in just under a day which is a testament to how well his understanding of his own quirk was. Izuku used every ounce of strength he had left, pushing himself and adapting to his attacker. He read Bakugo’s movements before they happened, his body already responding before his mind could catch up.
But Bakugo, he was ferocious in his own right.
Though he lacked the explosions that had once made him untouchable, he had compensated for it. Bakugo had also realized that his force of explosions had diminished somewhat. But that didn’t mean he was weak.
His footwork was impeccable, his raw strength even more terrifying. He was like a living weapon. Every punch was like a cannonball, every kick like a battering ram. He never let up, never allowed Izuku even a fraction of a second to think. To the untrained eye, it might have looked like a brawl.
But to Bell, who had spent months training with them, and to Eri, who had watched them in awe since the day they arrived, this was art.
A brutal, deadly art.
They weren’t simply exchanging blows. They were reading each other, challenging each other in their own ways.
It was like they were communicating in a language only they understood a language written in movement, in instinct, in the shared history of warriors who had fought and bled side by side.
But today, something felt…different.
Even as they clashed, their bodies moved with the same unyielding resolve there was something lingering in the air.
A shift.
A pulse.
It started as a whisper in the wind.
Bell was the first to notice it, a strange, unexplainable pressure pressing against his skin. He flinched, his grip tightening on his sword instinctively, though he had no idea why.
Izuku felt it next. His movements stilled for just a second, his entire body tensing as if his instincts were screaming at him to listen.
Bakugo stopped mid-step, crimson eyes narrowing, his fingers flexing unconsciously.
“The hell—?”
And then, Eri.
She gasped.
The energy that had been distant, lingering at the edges of their awareness, suddenly burst to life.
A deep, resonating hum filled the air. The ground beneath them trembled. The sky itself seemed to hold its breath.
And then,
Let there be Light.
Blinding and otherworldly overwhelming.
Bell shielded his eyes, heart hammering against his ribs as the entire training field is swallowed by it. The light rippled like a pulse through the very fabric of reality, bending the will of the world around it. The grass rustled violently as it was caught in the wave of unseen energy.
Powerful energy never felt before. And then, as quickly as it had come, the light vanished. Which was soon followed by silence.
A heavy, ringing silence that filled the void where the energy had once been.
Bell’s breath hitched as his heart completely stop. The reason for this is because standing there, right in the middle of the field were two figures.
Bell lowered his hands, his eyes open wide as his thoughts scrambling to process what he was seeing.
The first figure was, what Bell could best describe, a skeleton of a man with yellow hair and black eyes with blue pupils.
The second was a girl, her violet hair could easily been seen as her expression was a mixture of confusion and disbelief. Her hero costume was highly reminiscent of Izuku’s and Bakugo’s. Her fingers grip something attach to her earlobes.
They looked just as lost as the ones staring at them. But for Izuku, Bakugo, and Eri they knew exactly who they were staring at.
‘Jiro Kyoka and Toshinori Yagi.’ All three would simultaneously thought, though they didn’t know that.
For a moment, no one moved. No one breathed.
Izuku’s entire body locked up, his heart stuttering to a stop in his chest. His mind could barely registered what he was seeing, who was standing before him.
Kyoka’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come. Bakugo was eerily still, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked almost painful. Meanwhile Eri could feel tears build in her eyes.
These were the people they had lost when they first appeared in this world. A woman she had been force to leave behind.
And then, Eri moved.
The little girl didn’t hesitate. She ran straight towards, her cloak billowing behind her as she sprinted across the field, her breath coming out in soft, hitched sobs.
“MOMMA!”
The dam that she had been holding in for a while had finally broke. All the feelings that she had been holding in were now being let out.
Kyoka barely had time to react before Eri threw herself forward, her small arms wrapping tightly around her waist. The impact nearly knocked her off balance, but she manages to catch her just in time. She does so just as her breath hitch as her arms instinctively closed around Eri’s trembling form.
The floodgates of her own emotions burst open.
Eri sobbed into her stomach, clutching her as if she was afraid she would disappear. “I-I missed you-I missed you so much!”
Kyoka’s throat tightened. She still couldn’t process what was happening, how she had ended up here, but none of that mattered because Eri, her little snowflake was crying against her.
Kyoka swallowed past the lump in her throat and knelt down, cradling Eri’s tear streaked face with her own shaking hands.
“Hey…” Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “It’s okay, I’m here….I’m right here.”
Eri sniffled, her crimson eyes shining with tears. “You came back…”
Kyoka pressed her forehead against hers, squeezing her eyes shut as she whispered, “Yeah. I came back.”
Izuku was still frozen, his mind screaming at him to move, to say something. But he couldn’t. He could only stare.
Toshinori met his gaze, and for a second, it was as if time folded in on itself. His mentor looked older and tired. But there was something else in his eyes. Something unbreakable.
A slow knowing smile spread across, someone he consider a father figure, his face.
“Young Midoriya.” The voice was warm and very familiar. And that was when it hit Izuku. The weight of everything.
His breath left him in a sharp exhale, and his vision blurred before he even realized his eyes were welling up.
He moved.
His legs carrying him forward before he could think, before he could hesitate.
He ran.
Toshinori opened his arms just as Izuku crashed into him, fists clenching tightly onto the fabric of his mentor’s clothes.
And just like that, the unshakable, unbreakable Izuku Midoriya who always smiled through the pain, finally let go of his own feelings.
He buried his face into his mentor’s chest his shoulders shaking as he clung to him with every ounce of emotion that had been buried deep inside him.
Toshinori didn’t say anything. He simply held him. And for the first time in months, Izuku felt like he was home.
{XXXX}
After hugging his mentor, Izuku lets go and sees her for the first time in months.
Eri’s sobs trembled through Kyoka’s body, her small arms locked around her like a lifeline. The purple head girl ran a soothing hand through the little girl’s silver hair, whispering nothing but soft reassurances as her own tears fell freely.
“I missed you,” Eri whimpered, her voice small, fragile.
Jirou pressed a kiss to the top of her head, squeezing her tighter. “I missed you too, baby. I miss you so, so much.”
Her heart ached, shattered and rebuilt all at once. She had dreamed of this moment, prayed for it. The nights spent staring at the ceiling, wondering if she would ever see them again, if she would ever hold them again… those nights felt like a lifetime ago. And now, now her snowflake was in her arms, warm and real.
But even as she held her, even as she whispered comfort into Eri’s hair, Kyoka could feel him. His eyes burning into her. A presence that had been missing for so long, it felt almost unreal to sense it again.
Slowly, she lifted her head.
And there he was.
Izuku Midoriya.
Kyoka barely had a second to process before he moved. There was no hesitation, no words, only him.
She gasped as he crashed into her, his arms encircling her waist so tightly she thought she might break. But Kyoka didn’t care, in fact she welcomed it.
Her body molded against his instinctively, as if it had been waiting for this, aching for this.
“Izuku,” she breathed, her voice breaking.
His reply was a choked whisper, muffled against her shoulder. “Kyoka…”
His hands trembled where they gripped her, his breath uneven, his entire body shaking as if he was trying to convince himself she was real.
She understood as she felt the same.
Kyoka clutched the back of his hero costume, her fingers tangling into the fabric as she buried her face into his neck. His scent, so familiar and so grounding, filled her senses, making her knees feel weak.
Then suddenly, his hands cupped her face, tilting her up before she could even think. And before she knew it, his lips were on hers.
The world fell away.
Kyoka eyes widen, her fingers tightening as his lips moved desperately, hungrily, desperately against hers. There was no patience, no restraint, only pure, raw emotion pouring out through every press of his mouth.
‘God.’ she had missed him.
She kissed him back just as fiercely, as if trying to make up for the months they had been apart, for the time that been stolen from them.
Her body shuddered as his arms pulled her impossibly closer, molding her against him. His hands traced up her back, memorizing the feel of her, proving to himself that she was truly here, with him.
When they finally broke apart, Kyoka’s breath came in soft, shallow pants, her forehead resting against his. She felt lightheaded, dazed, but alive.
Izuku, still breathless, finally took a step back and his eyes locked onto her hero costume.
Kyoka barely had time to react before he was touching her again, fingers ghosting over the new design as if committing it to memory.
“You…” His voice cracked slightly, his green eyes swimming with emotions too vast to name. “You look…amazing.”
Kyoka chuckled, though it was weak, shaky. “You noticed?”
Izuku nodded, his hands settling on her waist again, thumbs tracing comforting circles.
“Of course I did,” he murmured.
His eyes softened, his expression raw with something deeper than just longing.
He had thought, truly thought, he would never see her again. That she would remain in the world they had left behind.
And yet, here she was.
His Kyoka.
Warm. Breathing. His.
And so, unable to stop himself, Izuku pressed another kiss to her lips, slower this time as he savor every last bit of it.
Jirou melted into it, into him, as her heart finally, finally found its missing piece once more.
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….
Bakugo watched the reunion unfold from a short distance away, arms crossed.
Kyoka and Eri clung to Izuku like he was the only thing keeping them grounded, their bodies trembling with emotion. Izuku, in turn, held them as if letting go would shatter everything.
It was raw just as it was painful. And Bakugo couldn’t bring himself to intrude on their small reunion.
Instead, his crimson gaze flickered toward the man standing beside him.
Toshinori Yagi.
Known as the Symbol of Peace.
The former Number One Hero stood still, his thin frame outlined by the sunlight, his eyes locked on Izuku. His expression was unreadable, somewhere between relief, grief, and something deeper. Something only someone like Bakugo could recognize.
Guilt.
Neither of them spoke for a long moment. The wind rustled the grass beneath their feet, carrying with it the soft sounds of sobs from the others.
Finally, it was Bakugo who broke the silence.
“Took you long enough.” His voice was rough, but not unkind.
Yagi exhaled a small, breathless chuckle. “I suppose it did.”
Bakugo’s gaze didn’t waver. “You look like shit.”
Yagi gave a tired smile. “You don’t look so great yourself, young Bakugo.”
Bakugo snorted. “Yeah, well… hard to look good when you’re stuck in a medieval-ass world with no modern showers.”
There was a beat of silence before Yagi spoke again, quieter this time.
“I searched for you.”
Bakugo stiffened, but didn’t look away.
Yagi’s hands clenched at his sides. “For months, we tried everything we could. No trace. It was like the three of you had just vanished.” His voice wavered, filled with the weight of his failure.
Bakugo shifted on his feet, uncomfortable with the sheer amount of emotion in Yagi’s tone. He had always known the old man cared more than he should, but hearing it like this, feeling it, was something else entirely.
“So what?” he muttered, glancing away. “You gonna cry about it?”
Yagi sighed. “No, I—” He hesitated, then exhaled. “I just needed you to know.”
Bakugo’s fingers twitched against his biceps. He had never been good at this kind of thing, this talking thing.
But for all the anger, for all the resentment he had once held toward Yagi, there was something different now.
Because Bakugo understood.
He understood what it was like to be left behind.
“…Mhm.” He scowled, looking away. “We manage to survived.”
Yagi turned to him fully now. “Yes,” he said softly, his gaze filled with something Bakugo couldn’t quite name. “You did.”
Another pause.
Then,
“…How is he?”
Bakugo knew exactly who he was asking about.
His scowl deepened, but there was no real bite to it. “…his normal shitty self as always.”
Yagi’s lips twitched. “And One For All?”
A muscle in Bakugo’s jaw twitched. “Different.”
Yagi’s brows furrowed, concern flickering in his eyes. Bakugo finally turned to face him, and for the first time, Yagi saw just how much he had changed.
His stance was different, more disciplined. His eyes held something older with and edge of some sharpness to it. The wild, reckless fire had dulled, replaced by something tempered and much more refined.
This was a Bakugo who had lived, who had survived a war despite himself still being a kid.
And yet, beneath it all, he was still him. Still Katsuki Bakugo.
“The nerd’s figuring it out,” Bakugo finally said, voice quieter. “Doesn’t matter what’s changed. He’ll get it together.”
Yagi studied him for a long moment before nodding.
“…And you?” Bakugo tensed. It was a question loaded with more weight than he was willing to deal with right now.
But in the end, all he said was, “I’m still standing, aren’t I?”
Yagi smiled faintly. “That you are.”
They didn’t say anything else. There was nothing else to say. Because in the end, words weren’t necessary. They both knew that.
{XXXX}
The inside of Bell’s home was small but warm, the scent of fresh tea and wood filling the air. The entire group gathered around a modest wooden table, the flickering glow of candlelight casting soft shadows against the walls. Gramps sat at the head, a silent observer with wise but childish eyes, while Bell and Eri nestled together on one side, listening intently.
Izuku sat beside Kyoka, his hand still curled around hers, as if afraid that if he let go, she would disappear again. Bakugo sat across from them, arms crossed, his usual scowl in place but his eyes betraying the emotions he refused to show.
Kyoka took a steadying breath before she began.
“It’s been four months since you guys disappeared,” she said, her voice quiet but firm.
“Four months of searching, of trying to figure out what the hell happened. You weren’t just gone, it was like you had been erased.”
Izuku tensed at that, his grip on her hand tightening. He was met with a tight squeeze back.
She continued, her violet eyes flickering between them. “The world moved on, but it wasn’t the same. UA… Class 1-A…Hell, all of us felt the hole you left behind.” She hesitated, then gave a sad chuckle.
“I think the first few weeks were the hardest. People kept expecting you guys to come back. There were even rumors that you were on some secret mission. That All Might had sent you somewhere without telling anyone.”
She glanced at Yagi then, and he looked away, guilt written all over his face.
“Then time passed, and reality started to set in,” she murmured. “People grieved. Heroes and civilians alike.” Her eyes softened as she looked at Eri. “Aizawa-sensei and Mirio took care of things, but…losing you hit everyone hard.”
Eri’s lip quivered, and she leaned into Izuku’s side, clutching the fabric of his shirt.
Kyoka exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. “So… they built a statue.”
Izuku’s eyes widened.
“A statue?” Bakugo scoffed. “The hell did we do that resulted in a damn statue for?”
Jirou gave him a dry look. “Because you were heroes, Bakugo. And you didn’t come back.” Her tone almost challenging. Bakugo flinched but otherwise said nothing.
“They unveiled it in front of UA,” Jirou went on, her gaze flickering to Izuku. “It’s of all three of you, together. A reminder of what you stood for. Of what you meant to people.”
Izuku swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure how to process that. To know that, back home, there was a statue of them, of him, all he could feel was surreal.
“Do you remember what it looks like?” Bell asked, voice small but curious.
Kyoka nodded. “Izuku’s at the front, reaching out like he always does. Bakugo’s at his side, ready to charge forward, and Eri’s behind them, safe.” She smiled faintly. “It’s powerful. Just seeing it… you can feel everything you stood for.”
Izuku felt something lodge in his throat.
He had always wanted to be a hero. But he had never thought of himself as something worthy of being immortalized in stone.
Kyoka squeezed his hand, bringing him back to the present.
“There’s… one more thing,” she said, almost shyly.
Izuku blinked at her. “What is it?”
Jirou hesitated for only a moment before gesturing to her hero costume. “My suit. It’s—” she sighed. “I had it redesigned. It’s based on yours.”
Izuku blinked again, as if trying to process her words. He looked her over now, really looked.
It was similar. The deep purple, the black accents, even the way it hugged her form—it was unmistakably inspired by his own. But it wasn’t a direct replica. It was hers. A tribute, not a copy. Izuku’s chest ached.
“You—” he swallowed. “You did this… for me?”
Jirou gave him a lopsided smile, cheeks dusted pink. “Of course, dumbass. You think I’d let people forget you?”
Something inside Izuku cracked. He surged forward, pulling her into another tight embrace.
Kyoka squeaked. “H-Hey! You’re gonna crush me, you idiot!” But Izuku didn’t let go. Because she had never let go of him.
Bakugo watched them, something unreadable flickering in his eyes before he let out a long sigh. “Tch. You’re such a sap, brother.”
Kyoka shot him a glare. “Oh, shut up, Bakugo. You were just as missed.”
Bakugo scoffed, looking away. “Yeah, whatever.”
Eri giggled, her heart lighter than it had been in months.
For the first time in a long time, things felt… right.
Like they were home.
{XXXX}
Three months had passed since Kyoka and All Might had arrived in this world.
Another months of adjusting, of learning, and of living.
At first, it had been strange. Kyoka had never considered herself the type to settle into village life, but something about it had a quiet charm.
The mornings were slow and peaceful, the people warm and welcoming. She had learned to help with daily chores, gathering firewood, mending tools, even cooking (though that was still a work in progress).
And while there was no electricity, no bustling city sounds, she had grown to love the stillness.
All Might, Yagi, as he had asked to be called more often had adapted in his own way. Though his body was still frail, his presence was larger than life. He had taken to teaching the children of the village simple self-defense techniques, sharing stories of heroism and hope.
He laughed more these days, softer but no less genuine, and for the first time in a long time, Jirou thought he looked…content with.
The biggest change, however, had been the home they had built.
It had started as an idea, a passing thought from Izuku. “We can’t keep staying at Bell’s forever,” he had said one night, staring up at the stars. “We should build our own place.”
And so, together, they had done just that.
With their combined strength, determination, and sheer dedication Izuku, Bakugo, Kyoka, Eri, and Yagi had built a house of their own. It was built right beside Bell and Gramps’ home. It wasn’t grand, nor was it perfect, but it was theirs.
A place to call home, a home away from home.
And now, under the golden afternoon sun, they trained in the open field near the village.
Kyoka stood opposite Izuku, sweat glistening on her forehead. She had grown since appearing in this world. Her instincts were sharper as her movements were refined. Izuku had helped her every step of the way, just as he always had.
Bakugo sparred with Bell a few feet away, barking insults between blows, while Yagi watched from the sidelines, offering pointers where he could. Eri, now bolder in her movements, practiced footwork with a sense of determination burning in her eyes.
Everything was good….until it wasn’t.
Izuku suddenly stiffened in their spar, his fish inches away from Kyoka’s side before stopping.
Kyoka felt it too, an unfamiliar presence at the village gate. A ripple in the air almost that something that didn’t belong.
She turned her head just as Izuku did, their eyes locking onto the figure standing at the entrance.
They were small but there was something immensely different about them. Their long, raven-black hair cascaded down their back, and their deep blue eyes were striking, shimmering with something that could only be described as divine.
The woman’s gaze swept over the village, her expression unreadable. Before setting her sights on the group in front of the gate. Then, her lips parted, and her voice rang out, a soft warm voice filled the air.
“I have come in search of my brother, Zeus.”
Silence. Bell froze mid-motion, his breath catching in his throat.
Kyoka’s heartbeat thundered in her ears.
Izuku eyes widen
Because standing before them, looking as though she had stepped straight out of legend,
Was a Goddess.